Just Another Bishōnen Fetish
by PureWaterLily
Summary: The young, rich, and strikingly gorgeous CEO of every major corporation has to have a sexy secretary, right? Unfortunately for Sakura, Itachi will not strip for her, regardless how high the financial compensation is. SakuIta.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Trolling is so much fun. Let's see how kinky I can make this.

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>Sakura Haruno has been the CEO of the biggest banking and securities firm in the country since she was twenty-two, but has practically been trained to inherit the company since day one. This means, she has been brought up in an environment of impenetrable smiles, merciless negotiations, and every single high class social event that will ever involve vin santo and imported biscotti.<p>

It also means her peers, since day one, has been forty to sixty year old men with protruding bellies, phallic cigars, and blinged-up Hughes, each with a private jet bigger than the next, as if the sizes compensated for something else.

Sakura attended the first of many of these parties when she was eight years old, dressed in her Alexander Amosu, hair parted to the side with a bottle of hair gel. And it was there that she noticed a trend, in which the arms of every one of these forty to sixty year old men with protruding bellies was a lassie about half their age, with curled up hair, pin-point heels, and generous curves.

And somewhere down the timeline, when her body much more lanky and frail, just at the beginning of adolescence and the onset of puberty, that she sat at a fountain, staring at a gorgeous boy by the palladio, and was given the most disastrous of ideas:

"You know, Sakura. The great thing about power is, you can get _whatever you want_."

She placed such a theory into practice, and found out that indeed, she did.

Five years later, Sasuke Uchiha sold his soul to the devil and has regretted it ever since.

... regretted it to the point that when Itachi landed in the JFK airport, Oxford dictionary in hand, his dignity was the only thing keeping him from jumping on his older brother, dramatically weeping into his arms, and screaming, "SAVE ME!"


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that Itachi notices when he enters the building isn't the marble floors, glass and chrome stairs, nor high hung chandeliers, but the people.

There is quite a diversity in height, stature, hair and skin color, but everyone is fashionably dressed in expensive things, and everyone has remarkably good complexions and facial symmetry. Everyone is also male, even the security officer he passes, the one with rather effeminate features and long hair.

In a country so proud of its gender equality and employment opportunities, he finds it odd how in the entire busy movement of people, there is not a single woman in sight.

Suddenly, a hand stops him from proceeding to the elevators.

"Identification, please." A man of grey pinstripes, gold pocket watch, and red curls speaks in a grave monotone. His eyes are as serious as his voice, and he stares Itachi with an artistic disdain, as if repulsed that such lowly things like sneakers and cheap factory jeans dare step inside.

"I am sorry?"

"Identification." The man nods to a plague showing an identification card.

Itachi observes the sign. "Ah, I do not work here."

"Obviously."

Itachi gives a benign smile and says, "I am visiting someone who does." He holds up the plastic bag in his hand as if it is evidence of the fact. "May I please go inside?"

"Then a visitor's pass," the man deadpans, extending an open palm.

"My foolish little brother has failed to give me one," Itachi says politely, as he takes the man's hand and shakes it instead. "I hope that does not prevent me from visiting him."

The man raises an eyebrow. Then he haughtily closes his eyes, and steps aside. "I guess it should not," he agrees, tucking Mr. Jackson inside his pocket.

"I would concur."

They turn to the third voice. To Itachi's surprise, it _is _a woman. Petite, with black slacks and open blazer, a white blouse unbuttoned inappropriately low. However, her chest is flat like a boy's, and there dangles an attractive platinum necklace that keeps the eye on the crack between her bare breasts for far too long.

The woman lifts her designer shades and bites down the edge in a playful manner, showing the lovely contrast between her white teeth and red lipstick. Meanwhile her green eyes dance across Itachi's body in a fiery spark, before her eyelids fall seductively low, and she chuckles.

She steps around Itachi, her fingers gliding across his back, before they hook around his waist and she escorts him into the elevator.

"Your name?" she questions, her body uncomfortably close against his. Without needing to look, she presses the _close_ button.

He smells her Chanel, and along with it, her power and wealth. Finding her little exploration of his body a little too distracting, Itachi politely takes her adventuring hand in his and smiles. "Itachi."

"Cute accent there, Itachi," she chuckles, using his hand to lasso him back to her when he tries to distance away. "Tell me, who are you looking for."

"Do you know Sasuke Uchiha?"

Her eyes widen momentarily, but she recovers and laughs, "Of course, I know him _quite_ well. Who is he to you?"

"My brother."

"I see the resemblance," she says, and hits the buttons to the one twenty fifth and sixth floor. "Although I must say he never mentioned he had a brother."

"He... is probably ashamed of me," Itachi confesses. "I do not hold up to his standards."

She tilts her head, examines the man before her carefully, the worn out colors of his jacket, the peeling rubber of his sneakers, the smell of cheap Chinese takeout. Fresh in the country, with not a penny to his name, neither a diploma nor job.

Not that those matters, as she takes a hold of his face, her eyes sharp and enthralled. Baring her teeth, she whispers sweetly, "I am sure that's not it." The close proximity takes Itachi by surprise, as does her breath, with its less artificial smells of maple syrup and bourbon, all as warm and burning as her personality.

When the elevator door opens, she releases him. "Sasuke's office is down this hall to the left. Also, the next time Sasori doesn't let you pass, instead of slipping him a twenty, show him this."

She hands him a card.

"Ah, thank you..." Itachi reads the business card. "Miss Haruno."

Miss Haruno, the confident businesswoman in a suit perfectly tailored to her body, lithe and angular, as if walking straight from one of those men's fashion catalogs. It is the first time Itachi has seen a Western woman, but he cannot deny of his intrigue.

A smile, as she pockets a hand, rests her weight on a hip.

"It's Sakura," she tells him just as the door slides close.


	3. Chapter 3

"What are you doing here!" a nerve-wrecked Sasuke hisses, standing up from his desk and sending all papers in disarray.

"_Bringing my little brother dumplings_." Itachi gives an amiable smile, and pulls out Styrofoam containers of cabbage dumplings from his bag.

At lightning speed, Sasuke slams the door, bolts shut three locks, and slides the chain. With his back sprawled against the barrier, he demands, "_Are you mad? You do not, under any circumstances, step a three kilo radius near my boss!_"

"_Sasuke, I am sure your boss is reasonable enough to allow a family member whom you have not seen for seven years to visit you._"

"_No!_" Sasuke presses his ear against the door, then twitches in paranoia, as he hurriedly grabs his brother and pushes him under his desk. He follows under. "_She is NOT reasonable, she is batshit insane, and if it weren't for this irrevocable contract and the love of my internal organs, I'd be out of this blasted country long ago! If fact, screw the organs!_"

"_Sasuke_..."

"_Don't Sasuke me!_" Sasuke frantically swats away his brother's touch. "_Why do you never listen to what I tell you! Do you live to make my life difficult-_"

There is a loud banging on the door, and Sasuke stiffens. Instantly, he shoves the takeout bag into Itachi's arms and keeps him down under.

"Who's there?" he questions collectedly, as he busies to straighten the astray paperwork.

"He who is not paid enough to clean up after your scrawny ass," comes the annoyed growl, and Sasuke visibly loses the tension in his shoulders. Just as he unlatches the door, the Chief Counsel bolts in and slams a file into his face.

"How may help you, Naruto," Sasuke sighs, preparing for himself an extended period of temple rubbing.

"You did _not _just approve of this project! Do you have ANY, and I mean ANY, sense of the word morality left in your bones!"

"No, I sold all of that for this lovely leather chair right here," Sasuke answers nonchalantly, as he seats in his throne, crosses his fingers, and gives his brother a good hard kick the second he detects movement under his desk.

"Do you have any idea what you have done!"

"Quite. I checked all the numbers, determined this project is in the green, checked the small box by the yes, and signed my name."

"And during that entire process, the thought of thousands of poor grandmas dying of lung cancer just escaped your mind!"

"Of course not. I just didn't care," Sasuke answers without the bat of a eye.

Naruto is sputtering, his brain haywire at the mere impossibility of the man before him. And he looks as if one the verge of explosion before he catches him, closes his eyes, and holds up an index finger.

"May I?" he questions politely.

Sasuke checks the condition of his eardrums, then his watch, and gives a nod of consent.

"YOU IMMORAL, LICENTIOUS PHILISTINE, HEARTLESS PIECE OF DRIED UP CRAP, FILTHY EGOISTIC VERMIN, I HOPE YOU DINE ON MOLDY GOAT BALLS FOR AN ETERNITY IN HELL!" Naruto punctuates with a slam of his fists down on the desk.

A chuckle. "_Sounds exquisite_."

Sasuke kicks, but it's too late, as Naruto blinks and looks down.

"Uh... Sasuke, did your desk just talk?"

"No."

"I swear it just spoke Chinese."

"This desk is made in Indonesia."

"_But assembled in China_," Itachi reads the stamp seal on bottom side of the desk.

"_You are not helping with this situation_," Sasuke says in a forced calm, eyes shut, a giant vein throbbing in his forehead, as his brother gets up from under the desk.

"Uhh... Sasuke, why is there a hobo under your desk?" Naruto questions, his eyes on the man who gives him a polite introductory bow.

"That's my brother."

"Why is your brother a hobo?" Naruto questions, but then shakes his head and corrects himself, "Err, I mean, why is he under your desk?"

"Because," Sasuke explains, "he is a rare species of the genus Aihatethae Impossibilia that upon exposure will cause instant amnesia, in which you will recall nothing of remotely related or relevant to him, thus preventing you from ever mentioning of him to our boss." Sasuke narrows his eyes dangerously. "Or else, you will die a slow and painful death."

Naruto rolls his eyes. "So you're afraid of _that_."

"It's not fear, it's precaution. These has been a recent trend of... vacancies... that must be filled..."

A snort. "Sasuke, no offense, but I don't think your brother quite meet the standards-"

In response, Sasuke merely yanks his brother down by the collar and allow Naruto a good look at Itachi's face, along with a deadpanned, "Are you kidding me," to which Naruto has to wince, because they both agree that the only thing worse than a pretty androgynous face, is a foreign one with skin untouched by pollution, hair kept anachronistically long, and a disposition well-mannered and, for the lack of a better word, naïve.

"He's only been to a city twice. Naruto, on your way out, you mind getting him out safely."

"Do I look like your secretary?"

Unfazed, Sasuke says, "I'll reason with the Health Department over regulations on the project," on top of presenting a bribe of dumplings.

One floor above, there is a smile, as lips leave behind a cherry red stain on the rim of a porcelain cup.

On the computer monitor screen is a Naruto furtively glancing around and pushing his clueless companion down the hallways. In another window is the passport picture of Itachi Uchiha, along with eight pages of information that a certain meddling young brother has been trying painstakingly to keep from his boss.


End file.
